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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738164">henry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicoforlife/pseuds/Nicoforlife'>Nicoforlife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>time is kind to only one [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other, uuuuhhh, wtf is this-, your guess is as good as mine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:29:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicoforlife/pseuds/Nicoforlife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>whats he like?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Calvin &amp; Ellie Rose &amp; Henry Stickmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>time is kind to only one [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>154</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>henry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>its shit i know ok-</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Henry was an enigma to his roommates; they loved him- one more than the other- but he was still so odd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was confident most of the time, unless you started asking him about himself that is. When that happened, he curled up into himself trying to slip away. He hated signing about himself with just about everyone, the two of them were the exception. They knew more about Henry than all of their coworkers combined, including their boss. It was something they both valued, this unique paranoid trust the mute gave them both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spells were another odd thing about him that most people didn't even notice, Charles had taken to calling them “Time Spells” after Henry revealed why he had them. A slight pause in the middle of a mission and suddenly he knew exactly what to do, or where he simply stood for hours on end looking at something before he went on like nothing happened, or where he was just a bit faster than you expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hoard was something they had come to live with. Trinkets and baubles littered shelves and tables, decorated the windowsill amidst Charles’ plants, random jars filled with broken buttons, old nails, and other random junk filled the shelf in his room, things most people considered trash were tucked away in boxes in his closet. The shiniest of his collection was spread across one of his dressers. His bed was a nest of blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows that always grew whenever they went to the store. It was never out of control, always tucked away, almost neatly organized and out of the way, but it was there. Henry's things. And Henry's things could tell you almost everything you needed to know about how he was feeling that day, it was a song and dance you could only learn after living with the ex-con after so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The strangest habit was one they were both fairly certain that Henry himself didn't even notice he had: see, the thing is that Henry </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiddled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If his hands weren't busy, they were twisting something or tossing it or poking it, and if he didn't have anything he played with his hands, signs of random words that they guessed were his thoughts, the mute equivalent of mumbling, as he listened or stared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If asked, they would admit that Henry being mute was likely the easiest part of living with him, if he wanted their attention he got their attention. How? Easy, pens. No, he didn't click them or tap them to get their attention. He threw them, if he wanted to say something he would, without even thinking, just chuck a pen at them, when they looked at him he would look all annoyed before signing his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there was the apperince thing. Ellie and Charles had gotten used to the unexpected features of the infamous Henry Stickmin, but anyone else who met the man was rightly startled. It turns out most people expected him to be of at least average height, usually taller, they expected at least brushed hair and the mug of a hardened criminal. Not a 5’2 mute albino gremlin that didn't know what shampoo was for other than making floors slippery, whose expression was permanently set to smug and never failed to get carded at every single bar. The double take most people did when they glanced at the three of them was probably the most amusing thing that happened every time they were lended to other generals. Sure, Charles and Ellie were startling too, but knowing the mastermind of the three of them was mistaken for a child in most public spaces seemed to cause peoples brains to implode.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But if you asked the two what Henry's worst habit was when living with him, both would without hesitation answer the same thing. His paranoia. Henry, for all he appeared, was one of the most paranoid people you could ever meet, even if he was spaced out, if anything triggered that part of his brain you would find yourself face to ground in wrestler lock with him on your back. You couldn't so much as breathe on his things without setting him off; don't even think about actually touching them, every question he answered, he answered with a lie and they were wondering if his name was even Henry at this point. He walked silently, causing too many late night scares, and if you somehow managed to sneak up on him you would be judo thrown out the nearest window. If the thought of one of his roommate's being fake so much as flitted across his mind, they were near instantly interrogated to see if he was right. It made living with him in that first month a nightmare as they walked on eggshells. After that though, they had started learning his patterns: phrases that set him off, things that couldn't be touched, or movements that he deemed odd. They were Henry things, he couldn't get himself to explain to them because of his paranoia and the trauma it stemmed from. The fact that he even told them he thought he had PTSD had sent him spiraling into a paranoid fever where they couldn't even get close enough to him to reassure him they were real. The Time Reveal had the same effect on him about half an hour after. In fact, his paranoia spiking to the point of not believing his friends were real and that reality was a drug induced hallucination.</span>
</p>
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